


pulse

by Noa



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: One-Sided Attraction, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noa/pseuds/Noa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It must be wonderful, to have such a comforting sound inside your chest at all times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pulse

You couldn’t believe you’d never heard Ryuko’s heartbeat before.

You, who were closest to her, closer to her heart than anyone else has ever been. You felt both stupid and elated at finally realizing the beauty of the sound.

And now that you had, you couldn’t stop listening.

It was a curious thing, her heart. At first you had no idea how someone was supposed to live with that constant beating in their chest, but you quickly learned that the rhythm was anything but distracting. Maybe it was her heart alone that sounded so pleasant, in the same way that her blood was the only blood to taste sweet. You contemplated these thoughts quietly as you felt the soft thumping vibrate through your fabric.

You love fighting by her side, on her skin, as her skin, but recently you’ve become more and more appreciative of the downtimes. Her heartbeat wild as she sprints to school, erratic in her ribcage and she presses a hand to her sternum, laughing while catching her breath. It’s intoxicating, and it always ends too soon. You think the sound of her laughter is the only thing to rival the sound of what keeps her alive.

Her slower heartbeat is just as nice. She’s calm around her friend, sharing lunch in a secluded part of the school grounds, hoping to avoid a fight. When you’ve synchronized with her you can measure her mood by the temperature of her blood, but now you were learning to do the same based on the space between two beats of her heart. It’s so peaceful, so soothing, and you’re almost glad she doesn’t address you as much at school because you may not even hear her through the lull it pulls you in.

It must be wonderful, to have such a comforting sound inside your chest at all times. You mask your impatience to hear it again when she pulls you on in the morning, as well as your slight sadness when she takes you off at night. You’ve tried to listen while she sleeps, to focus (as best as you could without the energy of her warmth), but the sound is too faint, too far away to feel. Sometimes you find yourself longing to synchronize, just so her heartbeat can be yours as well. It fills a void you never knew you had. You’re sure it’s more than her being the first person to stumble upon you back when you two first met. You can’t imagine fitting better on anyone else, to feel so complete when worn by another. She makes you whole, in ways you’ll never be able to explain.

She’d probably scold you if you tried.

So you’re quiet, and you stay quiet while she talks in her sleep, continuing her fight in her dreams. You stay quiet as the urge to keep her safe turns into a deeper care. You stay quiet when you realize there’s no other word for that care than love. In the morning, you tease her about her waistline, because you know she has no time for romance at this point in her life. You can only hope you can stay by her side long enough for that to change. You can only hope she won’t outgrow you.

When you regain consciousness, she is still asleep. There is a ceiling above you and you see the figure of a man sitting by the sofa on which she’s resting. He’s looking at her (you want him to stop looking at her), and every hour he touches her forehead to take her temperature. It’s fine, you could’ve told him that without him laying a hand on her- but he can’t hear you.

Then, it dawns on you that you can’t hear _her_.

It’s with slight panic that you force yourself to listen closely, and after the few most terrifying seconds of your life, you recognize the rhythm of her heart. It’s soft, distant, but it’s there and it calms you instantly. You were hoping to hear her sleeping heartbeat under different circumstances, but that didn’t make the sound any less captivating. It’s like she’s submerged somehow, pulling you in with her, and the longer you listen, the more you feel like drowning too. You could listen to her for forever.

Still, the relief you feel when she wakes up an hour later is overwhelming.

On the way home, the two of you talk quietly. You apologize for taking too much of her blood, she brushes you off and says she pushed it too far. Every now and then her hand brushes past the hem of her skirt and her touch on your stitches makes you feel warm. You really don’t want to leave her skin that night, but you have to, you know you do. You watch over her, hanging from a wire, until you can wish her a good morning again and she tells you to fuck off. Your single eye smiles in reply.

You want to stay with her until you come apart, and wrap your worn-down scraps around her like a blanket.

Time passes, and each consecutive morning there’s a moment of fear that you won’t fit her anymore. She grows so fast, but so do you- you two are a unit. You ruffle with her laughter and absorb her tears, you relish the thrill of battle and the heat of the iron that comes after. She never forgets.

And when her fingers gently stroke down your fabric, still warm from getting the wrinkles smoothed out, you consider telling her how much you love her. Then, her hands lift you from the ironing board and she holds you to her chest, hugging you close like she did that one time on the bathroom floor. The cuffs of your sleeves stiffen with the need to hold her, but you don’t. Instead, she holds you, and her whispers are soft against your eye patch when she asks you to promise you’ll never leave her alone.

You tell her you’d rather unravel.

_fin_


End file.
